


The Sky in the Castle

by 10moonymhrivertam



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Anger, Background Megan Parry, Background Michael Fisher/Martha Hatter - Freeform, Background Witch of the Wastes, Cats, Drinking, Fear, Gen, Guilt, Hope, Howl's Awful Housekeeping, Kidnapping, Poor Life Choices, Snakes, Stars, Wales, What-If, snake bites, the Wastes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-09-25 03:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10moonymhrivertam/pseuds/10moonymhrivertam
Summary: There was once a land where a boy named Michael Fisher spoke to a star as it fell due to a misunderstanding with his tutor - in that land, the star grew skittish with Sophie’s arrival, and Michael had someone with him who could talk life into things. The trouble was thatthisland was notthatland.





	1. In Which A Metaphorical Nail is Introduced

There was once a land where a boy named Michael Fisher spoke to a star as it fell due to a misunderstanding with his tutor - in this land, the star grew skittish with Sophie’s arrival, and Michael had someone with him who could talk life into things. The trouble was that  _ this _ land was not  _ that _ land. Oh, this land looked like that land, with an orphaned Michael, and a nosy cursed-old Sophie, and a Welshman who dropped letters off his name...but in this land, Michael was just a little faster, Sophie was just a little slower, and the star cared very little for what was right or wrong.

Michael watched the star drifting, and somehow, it was just him and the star. He could not even hear Sophie splashing in the marsh. He locked eyes with it, and found he wasn’t sure what to say.

“You look scared.”

“I’m to die now,” the star declared, its eyes darting down to the marsh pool.

“You don’t...have to,” Michael suggested, taking a step forward. It darted backward, but not downward. Michael supposed that was a good sign.

“I’d need a heart of the earth to live on the earth, not a heart of the sky,” the star protested. “It would just be a slower death.”

“But jumping into the puddle would be lonely. I could hold you, at least,” Michael offered. The star flickered with uncertainty, and it was familiar, but Michael couldn’t place how. The star floated into his hands. He cupped them around the star. It was warm, but not hot enough to burn. It felt so small, and it seemed to tremble.

“I came out here to do a spell,” Michael admitted.

“What sort?”

“No idea. My teacher left it for me. It’s very strange. But I was supposed to catch a falling star. But nothing said I had to do anything after I caught it, I suppose...” Michael mused. The star shrank with unhappiness, and looked ready to leap away. “No, please! I don’t want you to be alone, not now. It would hurt my heart.”

“Me? But we’ve only just met.”

“I guess I just let you in it the moment I saw you.” Michael shrugged. And there were a few beats of the silence. The star was still trembling, and it already seemed dimmer.

“Well, if I’m already in it...could I trouble you terribly to rent it?” The star hissed anxiously.

“Rent it?” Michael asked, bewildered.

“I’ll do something for you, if you let me use your heart.”

“But wouldn’t that kill me?” Michael asked, joining the star in trembling.

“I would never!” The star twinkled. “It’s a bit of magic even you wizards can do with some effort, and I can do it as easy as you breathe. I could put your heart across a room and it would still beat for you.” The star sparkled. “It could beat for both of us. You could use my magic, and we could find each other whenever we liked! We’d never have to be alone, either of us!”

Michael remembered being alone, in Porthaven. Doorstep to doorstep, all because it had been a storm his parents had died in. If it had been anything else, someone might have let him in. But no one had...except Howl, with his terrible money keeping and his habit of being gone for days. But still...being with Howl was nothing like being alone. It was warm, and comforting, and he’d begun to suspect that Howl would be there for him whether he were useful or not. This star...it was just like him.

“....How?” Michael asked. The star drew itself up on an inhale.

“I, Eirlys, do pledge my magic and the knowledge of my whereabouts to....”

“Michael Fisher.”

“To Michael Fisher, in exchange for the sharing of his heart, and for the knowledge of his whereabouts.”

“Is....is that it?”

“Unless you think it needs more,” the star said dimly. “You just need to say it back in reverse if you’re satisfied.”

Michael couldn’t think of anything else he could ask of the star, and it was so broad as it was. And the star was asking only two quite narrow things of him.

“I, Michael Fisher, pledge to share my heart and the knowledge of my whereabouts with Eirlys, in exchange for their magic and the knowledge of their whereabouts.”

“Now swallow me. I promise it won’t hurt.” The star said, curled small around its fading sky-heart. So...Michael did. It didn’t hurt...but next thing he knew, he was face-down in the marsh with Sophie shaking his shoulder.

“..chael... _ Michael _ .”

Michael turned his head to the side. “I’m up,” he said, levering himself onto his hands and knees. As he rose from the ground, he noticed something where his chest had been laying. As he watched, the lump sprouted an orange light. Before he could truly take it in, something formed around the lump - a cat! And it jumped out from under him and onto his back. And there, it spoke.

“Oh, that’s wet!” It cried, shaking its paws. Michael was still and Sophie was staring. Michael felt the cat’s breath against his ear a moment later. “Michael! Are you alright? Oh, I hope you’re alright. I’ve never worked magic on the earth before.”

“I think I’m okay,” Michael said, keeping his back carefully steady. “...You’re a cat.”

“A heart’s heavy to float around with. But I’m not ready for anything big. Still, I had to get away from the damp ground. I’m not quite a star anymore...water’s even worse now.”

“If you’re not a star...what are you?” Sophie asked, and something about the tone in her crackly old voice had his stomach sinking.

“I believe the term down here is ‘fire demon’.”

There was a beat of silence and stillness, and then Michael said an ungentlemanly word he had learned from Howl, quite loudly.

* * *

Eirlys was convinced to hop down from his back long enough for Michael to stand up, and then she jumped up onto his shoulder in one great bound, where she balanced carefully. Sophie took hold of him and was giving him some long winded lecture about leaving old women to trip, and he apologized several times, but his heart wasn’t in it. He let out a slightly hysterical snort at the thought, which Sophie didn’t like, and she got even louder and sterner, and he apologized again. But his mind was on Eirlys, and how quiet it suddenly seemed. His chest didn’t ache, or feel full or empty. It just...was.

Before long, they were back to where Michael had abandoned his boot, and they readied themselves to go home. Michael relaxed when he saw ships’ masts in the distance, and then even more when they reached the edge of town. Eirlys was soaking it in.

“A human town,” she marveled. “To think I spent all that time singing and never really paying attention to what I was seeing.”

Michael bent down to help Sophie get the boot off and tried not to send Eirlys tumbling. He got his own boot off and then straightened up. They all headed into town together, finding the Wizard Jenkins’ building with ease. 

“What?” Eirlys murmured. “It’s like it’s been hollowed out  _ and _ overstuffed...”

“It’s got the castle in it. I can ask Howl about it, if you want,” Michael smiled. But when he took hold of the knob, it wouldn’t open. He frowned and jiggled it a little.

“Is it locked?” Sophie asked over his shoulder.

“He never locks anything but the black entrance,” Michael said, frowning.

“Let me try,” Sophie said, sweeping him gently aside with her stick. She had the same lack of success he did with the knob, and then turned to scolding the door. That didn’t work either, much to Michael’s surprise. Things usually worked when Sophie told them to. They dithered about on the stoop for what might’ve been a half-hour, and they were starting to draw attention. Then Michael heard Howl’s voice.

“It’s only Michael and Sophie, Calcifer. Really, what’s all this about?” And then the door opened, nearly sending Sophie spilling inside. She straightened and gave Howl (fresh from the shower, Michael saw) a little glare before taking herself up the stairs.

“Thank you, Howl,” Michael said pointedly, as he was of the opinion that Howl couldn’t be blamed for the locked door and Sophie was being unfairly grumbly. He got just inside the room and had to stop, wincing.

“Ow, Eirlys, quit it with the claws.”

“Eirlys. That’s nice. How’d you pick that out?” Howl asked as he turned back around. He got halfway across the room and then frowned at Calcifer. “You’re looking pale, old blueface.”

Calcifer didn’t answer, and that’s when Howl really got concerned. Michael suspected what was wrong, considering how Eirlys had reacted when she’d spotted Calcifer. But he found he was suddenly too afraid to say, considering how both demons were reacting.

“Calcifer?” Howl asked, his voice more serious now. “What’s wrong?”

“I told them not to go. I was halfway up the chimney with it.”

“Told them not to go where?” Howl asked, his eyes flickering back to Michael and Eirlys. Calcifer didn’t answer, again.

“Michael, where did you go?” Howl glanced back, probably taking in what entrance they’d come in from.

“We went to the marshes, Howl,” Sophie said from across the room. Michael suspected she liked the tension in the air even less than he did. “He was trying to finish that spell you set for him.”

“Enlargement spells don’t need anything from the marshes,” he said, perhaps a bit sharply, straightening suddenly. “Where’s the spell?” 

Michael wordlessly brushed past him to the workbench and held it out. Howl looked at it and seemed to do an immediate double-take.

“This isn’t what I left.” Then he actually  _ read _ it. He looked up very slowly.

“Michael. You didn’t.”

“He thought it was what you left for him!” Sophie said before Michael could even unstick his mouth. “Soot with sparks in wasn’t working, and we tried cutting a paper star and dropping and catching that, and it still didn’t work...so  _ I _ suggested we go to the marshes.”

But he didn’t even look at Sophie. His glass-marble eyes were fixed on Michael, and it made him shiver. “What did you bargain?” Howl asked. The room seemed very dim despite Calcifer’s light, Michael noticed, and things seemed to be shaking. Michael’s eyes skittered away from him. “What contract did you make?” Howl bellowed, and Michael flinched. Eirlys hissed and started to leap.

“No!” Michael yelled, reaching for her and drawing her back to his chest, holding her tight to prevent a protective attack. “She was scared!”

“Do you even know what you’ve done?”

“I helped Eirlys when she was scared!” Michael yelled back.

“And what happens the day that you don’t care when someone’s scared anymore?” Howl slammed the strange paper onto the workbench as he yelled.

“Howl!” Calcifer said sharply. The room went still, and Howl hung his head, flaxen hair obscuring his face. Then he stomped past Michael, his suit shimmering strangely. He turned the knob harshly black-side-down.

“Where are you going?” Sophie demanded.

“Out!” Howl snapped. “Find a pick-up game or something,” he half-muttered. Just before he stepped into the darkness, Michael saw him in strange blue trousers and a jacket that read ‘WELSH RUGBY’ along the back. And then the door slammed, and there was silence.

“...Sorry,” Calcifer said after several moments. “For locking the door on you.” Michael turned. “The only other one in the area is contracted with the Witch of the Waste, and Howl has strong feelings about those two.” Michael realized that Calcifer was speaking to Eirlys. “Calcifer. You?”

“Eirlys,” the cat eventually said grudgingly. She wriggled and Michael set her on the floor. She jumped into the armchair and stared at Calcifer. Michael, still unsettled, reached for a log to give to Calcifer.

“How are you?” Calcifer asked as he settled around the new log.

“‘M fine,” Michael muttered. Calcifer’s eyes flickered over him.

“Don’t mind him. He’s scared.”

Michael frowned, but was at a loss for what to say. Sophie seemed to be quite suddenly beside him, though she must have hobbled all the way there. 

“Your contract with Howl...is it the same?”

“I mean, the terms are probably different. Eirlys isn’t stuck in a hearth,” Calcifer pointed out, sulking low in his logs.

“But....Howl’s heart?” Michael asked. 

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....chapter two is written fully, but there's nothing of chapter three written, so you can't see chapter two yet. You'll find out why.


	2. In Which Things Happen, in Spite of a Nail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instant validation, or wait until I have chapter three closer to finished? ....I'm not good at patience here you go don't kill me for the cliffhanger.

The moment he got three steps beyond the door and off the porch, he was soaked.

“Well, that’s bloody _perfect_ , isn’t it?” He wanted to shout, but didn’t dare say it loud enough for Megan to know he was home - he could hear Mari’s cartoons going inside. He glanced back at the shed, then shook his head. He needed to walk this out - the sense that his chest should be tight with anxiety when it wasn’t; the urge to grab Michael and shake him until he understood.

He shrank into his jacket like a nervous turtle, trying to use its upturned collar to keep away from the downpour. His feet beat out an angry rhythm against familiar gray pavement, interrupting the roaring of the rain. The little yellow houses around him gave way gradually to coffee shops and restaurants. As the suburbs faded away, so did the rain. When he reached the center of town, he paused and looked toward the park. Even from here he could tell that it was more a lake of mud at the moment, and he saw only one brave soul walking a dog. Well, damn. There went that plan. There was still a chance he could crash someone’s pickup football game - he remembered dragging Megan out to play in the mud when they were both much younger - but he didn’t have high hopes. These days kids had computer games, and they’d probably be taking full advantage of the rainy day.

He looked around despairingly and spotted the pub. Well. There wasn’t anything better to do. He slipped inside, his hair and jacket dripping. As he moved toward the counter, he slipped a hand into his pocket. Silently, he conjured a bundle of notes from the stash he had back at the castle in his sock drawer. He only came up with a few pounds - the stash must be getting low. As soon as that thought hit came the idea that he should look into odd jobs around the neighborhood. Naturally, he remembered Megan’s insistence that he find a real job. His head throbbed, and a pint glass on the bar rattled ominously. He took a breath. He couldn’t afford a magical reflection of his feelings here.

He ordered a pint and then sat where he could see the television, scrubbing at his eyes. For about a quarter of the pint, he just focused on watching the game. It had been a football game when he’d come in, but the bartender must have recognized either him or the jacket, because it was rugby now. His emotions began to settle as he watched quietly. His eyes mostly followed the wing, but the camera didn’t always make that easy. But as things sometimes worked out when one began to relax, the crux of the issue came back to bite him. _Now you have to find a solution that works for Michael, too._ The thought flashed through his mind and was away again. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw patterns. He still didn’t know how to break _his own_ contract without killing himself or Calcifer - or both of them. But that wasn’t on Michael, and Howl really ought to apologize for it. That would mean admitting he was scared, which his pride balked at, but...he had reminded Sophie and Michael what a coward he was at every opportunity; they already knew he was terrified, probably.

He sat up a little straighter. That paper Michael had shown him. That was a photocopy, and where there were photocopies, there were academics. It wasn’t an old paper of his; he’d thrown all his papers out after every class, wanting to put it behind him. Poetry classes were more work than he liked, but he’d needed them to help him better understand advanced spells. It must belong to someone else in the house, then. Not Gareth and his respectable business job. There was no reason for it to belong to Megan. Couldn’t be Mari’s - surely they wouldn’t be asking her to invent a verse to a poem yet. So that left Neil as its original owner.

Howl was only three-quarters done with his drink when he stood to go. Maybe the enlargement spell is here, he thought hopefully. He could trade it for Neil’s piece of homework and bring the spell back as some sort of show of good faith. If he found it, it would be a good way to test how Michael’s power levels had changed, too. Howl remembered having to get used to his powers all over again after Calcifer. He could fix something, for once, he realized with a small smile.

* * *

 

At the end of his spontaneous scavenger hunt, he pressed the doorbell. He was expecting to have to wait ages, but she answered the door almost immediately.

“Hello, Howl.” Howl realized a couple of things very quickly. The first was that he knew she was Ingarian in the way he had known the guitar and the skull were Welsh. The second was that the name she’d spoken was only one syllable - not the ‘How-well’ he’d grown up hearing, but the mistake he’d let Porthaven keep making until it had become a name. He knew he and Suliman were the only two people in Ingary who were originally from Wales, and the options for people who could travel to Wales without being a native were limited. Mrs. Penstemon had the power for it, but Wales seemed beneath her dignity, somehow. The Witch probably could, but she’d never have the patience to pose as a school teacher. That left a fire demon. Michael’s was only a day old, and Miss Angorian had been established here for a while. Besides, there was a sour tang in the air that reminded him of the Witch’s magic.

“Bye!” Howl blurted, turning to sprint down the road. Now, he was only human, of course. But he had been a winger, and he was doing his damnedest to put “running away from my problems” as a special skill on his resume. So he _could_ have tripped, and it certainly looked like tripping to everyone peeking out of twitchy curtains.

Howl felt a powerful bolt of magic around his feet, and he went crashing to the sidewalk, sliding a little with his momentum. He was able to catch himself so that he didn’t slam face-first into the pavement, but his hands stung something awful. Then Miss Angorian was there, helping him up. A cloak of magic fell across him, and he felt he couldn’t move on his own. Miss Angorian shuffled him along inside, smiling to herself.

“I know the curse was supposed to bring you to us, but I simply couldn’t wait,” she said cheerfully, lowly enough that the neighbors couldn’t hear. “There's that tiny problem where that little ball of embers of yours will keep us from taking you apart...at least until the curse is fulfilled. But that can be fixed.”

“The curse hasn’t even taken yet,” he grunted through numb lips.

“If you say so.” He shivered. “Now, what do you say to some John Donne while we wait?”

The door clicked shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just writing along, and then I got to Howl going after the spell, and Miss Angorian answered the door very maliciously and I was very distressed. I did not intend for this to have a plot beyond the argument about Eirlys, but uh....this is happening, I guess.
> 
> My justification is that, even in the book, I think they knew each other on sight. However, in the book, he had backup. Ignorant backup, but backup. It tempered his cowardice. This time there just...wasn't a reason for him to stick around, and Miss Angorian has to make sure the curse takes.


	3. In Which Mrs. Nose Earns Her Nickname

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahaha oh dear this is threatening to get longer. I was going to just have three and the third was going to be the finale, but that is...not how this will work.
> 
> A warning: I don't have anything written for chapter four, this is more instant validation. It may be A While before the conclusion comes out. However, I want to THANK YOU _so much_ for your dedication in reading this long! I hope it doesn't disappoint.

“I’m going down to Cesari’s,” Michael announced. Sophie stopped staring into Calcifer’s colors to look at him. “I ought to tell Lettie.”

“Can you?” Sophie asked, glancing back to Calcifer.

“All we said about our contract was sharing power and finding each other. There wasn’t anything about not telling people.”

“Howl was worried about Mrs. Penstemon when we made the contract, I think,” Calcifer offered. “If there’s a clause not to talk about something, he can’t even slip up accidentally while he’s being dramatic. His power level changed a little too drastically for her to miss, though. You should be fine, Michael. Are you taking Eirlys?”

“I think I’d like to look around the town,” she said, poking her head under a stool. She pulled it back to ask: “If that’s alright with you, Michael?”

“Sure, as long as you follow me home when I’m done there. Be careful, okay?”

“I will. If there’s even a little trouble I’ll just zip right back to the doorstep.”

Sophie watched them both go, sinking back into her chair. Things were just so...much. First Howl’s temper, then Michael’s mood... She and Calcifer sat quietly together. She jumped badly at a knock on the door.

“Porthaven door.” Not Howl, cooled off; or Michael, forgetting something; or even the scarecrow, determined. She could only imagine it must be a customer, then. She was overwhelmed, but she didn’t want to damage Howl’s professional reputation, even if his personal one was in tatters of his own making. She got up and hobbled to the door, opening it blue-down. There was a cart horse outside. The young fellow of fifty who was leading it wondered if she had something which might stop it casting shoes all the time.

“I’ll see,” said Sophie. She hobbled over to the grate. “What shall I  _ do _ ?” she whispered.

“Yellow powder, fourth jar along on the second shelf,” Calcifer whispered back. “Those spells are mostly belief. Don’t look uncertain when you give it to him.”

So Sophie poured yellow powder into a square of paper as she had seen Michael do, twisted it smartly, and hobbled to the door with it. “There you are, my boy,” she said. “That’ll stick the shoes on harder than any hundred nails. Do you hear me, horse? You won’t need a smith for the next year. That’ll be a penny, thank you.”

Some days they went without anyone looking for Howl at all, and Sophie quite wished this were one of those days. The one benefit to the rush was that she could keep her mind away from Howl’s temper and Michael’s heart - she had to sell all sorts of spells: one to unblock drains, another to fetch goats, something to make good beer, something else to even out a fight.

After that one, Sophie was able to collapse into the armchair. Finally, she brought up what she’d been avoiding since their discovery that morning.

“So the contract is that you get to use his heart. Wouldn’t breaking it kill you?”

“That’s what we’ve been asking ourselves,” Calcifer hissed. He hesitated, flickering this way and that in the grate. “Have you noticed how things always do as you tell them?”

“Not always -” Sophie protested, thinking of her sisters and their bickering.

“When you  _ mean _ it,” Calcifer continued a bit sternly. “Just now, with the horse - instead of just giving that man the spell, you talked to the horse. If you find him in a year, I’m sure he’ll say he didn’t need to go to the smith for anything to do with that horse at all. And that boy going off to the duel - you were talking to the pepper. You told it to make it a fair fight. Couldn’t you feel the magic on it? It’s going to work, Sophie. You’ve got a talent yourself - it just doesn’t present academically like Howl's and Michael's do.”

Sophie frowned. Well, Calcifer was a demon who’d once been a star. From what she’d seen of Calcifer so far and what Eirlys had done, she was fairly comfortable trusting him as an authority on magic. And she supposed it made sense. It would explain the popularity of some of the hats. It explained Jane Farrier’s Count Whatsit, and it might even explain the witch’s jealousy. And now that she was thinking about this, it was as though she’d always known it. But she had thought it was not proper to have a magic gift because she was the eldest of three.

“Okay,” Sophie said finally. “But what’s that to do with anything? I’ve only done little things - and none of it’s been on purpose!”

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s not all little. For one thing, that stick is getting to the point where I could nearly feel it in the marshes. For another -” Calcifer flared a little and then settled. “...Never mind,” he decided.

“What?”

“I just don’t think you’re ready to hear about the other big thing yet. Forget it for now,” he dismissed. “But I noticed that the first night you were here: that you could talk life into things. And I think that might be how Howl and I get out of this. If you’re okay with that.” He hissed and spat anxiously. A log popped.

“Okay. I just don’t quite know....how.” As if Sophie hadn’t been overwhelmed before, now it sounded like if she gave up on the contract, no one else  _ could _ break it

“It’s okay. Things aren’t going to go bad right away. You can sleep on it.”

Sophie almost took him up on that, planning to hobble quickly to her cubby hole, but then Michael arrived back. She looked over her shoulder. He seemed alright, and Eirlys was right there behind him. She had been sleek and black before, but now she was a fluffy white thing. She caught Sophie looking.

“I can shift. I just need to start small. I’m still getting used to being here. And of course, if I’m ever really drained, I’ll just be a flame.” She gave Calcifer a bit of a pointed look. “An orange one - the sort that blends in, you know.”

“It’s not like I go anywhere! Michael, how did it go?” Calcifer asked quickly.

Michael smiled a small, relieved smile. “I was afraid for a minute there, but I don’t need my heart to be in my chest to love Lettie.” He sat on the stool. “I think she’s a little worried about my heart being with Eirlys, but - only worried. She didn’t ask me to go, and she still gave me a kiss goodbye. I’ll have to take Eirlys to meet her next time.”

Suddenly, Calcifer flared. Sophie and Michael both looked at him, wondering if they’d said something wrong. He shrank down close to the grate after his flare-up, now just a few flickers.

“Calcifer?” Sophie frowned.

“...I’m okay. It’s not you guys.” She watched him carefully for flickering eyes or anxious shrinking, but he didn’t do either, so she decided to let it pass. Sophie and Michael talked until dinnertime. Sophie noted that Calcifer let her make dinner with hardly a peep and tried to ask again, but he insisted nothing was wrong. Since she couldn’t pinpoint it, she let him lie, but she wasn’t happy about it.

Michael went upstairs after dinner, and Sophie wanted to go to her cubby hole but found herself making excuses to sit up in the armchair, watching the door, her eyes flicking to the dial every once in a while.

* * *

“How long is Howl normally gone when he goes through the black door?”

“Usually it’s just a day trip. Sometimes he spends a night or two.”

“It’s been a week,” Sophie fretted.

“He  _ was _ angry with me...” Michael murmured.

“It would’ve burned out by now.” Sophie wasn’t sure how she could say it with such certainty - she barely knew Howl, really, but someone who slithered out of things and fell out of love as quickly as he fell into it couldn’t be angry with a friend so long. “Michael...what if something’s happened to him?”

“Well, then something would’ve happened to Calcifer, wouldn’t it?” Eirlys said from near the hearth, now in the shape of a young dog that was a little bigger than her initial cat forms. Sophie sat up in her arm chair, her eyes growing wide as they fixed on Calcifer. As soon as he noticed her looking, he looked away.

“What happened to him?” Sophie demanded, making both Michael and Eirlys look at her in surprise.

Calcifer mumbled something - it was lost in the hissing, popping quality of his voice. She glared sternly at him.

“The Witch’s curse took!” He practically wailed. Silence fell, aside from Calcifer’s crackling.

“What do you mean it took?” Michael asked.

“I mean, I could feel it hook into our power. But he’s not hurt!” Calcifer protested.

“It’s been a week!” Sophie rejoined.

“I know! I know, I know, I should’ve said earlier, but he’s not hurt! I didn’t think he would want you to know,” Calcifer said miserably. Silence fell for another several moments.

“This won’t do,” Sophie said. She pulled herself upright and grabbed her stick.

“What are you doing?” Michael and Calcifer asked as one.

“Going through the black door."

“Is that allowed?” Michael asked, looking to Calcifer. Calcifer bobbed in a shrug. Sophie did not care. She grabbed a shawl from near the door. Michael scrambled after her, and Eirlys stood and arched her back in a stretch, padding to Michael’s side.

Sophie turned the knob black blob down. A mix of feelings bubbled inside her. Guilt, excitement, maybe some anger. But the fear outweighed it all. The Witch of the Wastes had laid a curse on Howl, and then he hadn’t returned home. Calcifer’s confidence that Howl wasn’t hurt was more eerie than reassuring.

Sophie pulled open the door and looked into a deep blackness. She exchanged a look with Michael. He looked fearful, but ready. Eirlys passed Sophie's feet to sniff at the blackness. 

“Seems to be the earth,” she remarked. “It feels different...smells different. But not sky-different. It’s safe, I think.”

“Alright, then,” Sophie declared. In a last moment of fear, she gripped Michael’s hand before proceeding into the blackness.

* * *

 

The blackness turned out not to be terribly thick. The moment they passed through it, they seemed to be standing on a tidy porch, which overlooked a neat, square lawn ; a cement path to a garden gate; and a curiously flat street beyond that.

 

There was the sound of children playing, very nearby. However, it was the sort of sound that made Sophie feel especially old and made her want to shake her stick - boys laughing while a girl sounded halfway to tears. Without thinking, Sophie stomped down the steps and rounded the corner of the little yellow house the porch was attached to. She heard Michael scrambling after her. 

Three boys were arranged in a triangle, a black-and-white ball soaring between them while a little girl went up to whichever boy had it currently and tried to get it back. When she failed again, she turned to the boy laughing hardest. 

“Neil, this isn’t  _ fair _ ! You’ve been playing that game from Uncle Howell all week, Mummy said you have to play with me.  You didn’t say your friends would be playing, too. Just - just give me the ball so I can play alone!” She demanded tearfully.

“Come on, Mari. You asked us to play with you...” He caught the ball fast as lightning and passed it away at the same speed. “And we’re playing with you. Besides, if we gave you this ball, what would  _ we _ play with?”

“Go and play your game some more!” Mari demanded.

“Mum took the computer,” Neil said. Despite his attempt at nonchalance, his mouth twisted into a moue that betrayed how he really felt about that. Again, the ball passed through his hands and onto one of the other boys, held as high above Mari’s head as they could manage. Sophie had had just about enough. She’d seen this too often on the streets of Market Chipping, and very often, Lettie had been the poor child in the middle.

Sophie stomped forward, her most grumpy old-person look on her face.

“Now that’s no way to go about playing!” she cried, shaking her stick. The children startled and looked at her, wide-eyed. “How is it fun to put a little girl in tears just because she wanted to spend time with you, hm?”

Neil stammered, but when Sophie couldn’t see a response forthcoming, she continued.

“It’s no skin off your back to  _ share _ that ball, young men, and then nobody has to end the day crying. Did you think about that?”

“I don’t wanna play with them anymore, anyway,” Mari said, retreating out of the boys’ triangle. “Who are you?” she sounded properly curious as she came up to Sophie. “Why are you in our backyard?”

“Oh, I was passing through. Looking for a fool boy I know. I don’t think I would’ve been surprised if I’d found him joining this game of pass, the way he plays with girls’ hearts,” she tutted.

“I haven’t seen anyone go by today except the neighbors,” Mari said.

“Oh, it wouldn’t have been today.” Sophie sighed, guilt panging in her chest. “It’s been a week since he stormed out of the house, and I’m worried he might’ve gotten himself into trouble. He _is_ that sort,” she said conspiratorially.

Mari scrunched up her nose. “It was awfully rainy a week ago.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t remember even if you’d seen him.” Neil rolled his eyes. “That was the same day when Uncle Howell came over. Remember, Mum yelled at him for dripping in the hallway?”

Well...they weren’t saying it quite right, drawing it out in the middle in a strange, unfamiliar way, but...

“Your uncle...what does he look like?”

“He’s really tall!” Mari declared. “And sometimes he’ll play football with me if he’s here for a few days.”

“He’s a layabout,” Neil countered. “Leaves all his things in our attic and goes off to do - something - instead of getting a proper job.”

“Sometimes he mows everyone’s lawns in the summer,” Mari added. “Or fixes their cars. Neil says I’m being stupid, but I think he does it with magic!”

“There’s no such thing, Mari,” Neil said tiredly. Sophie frowned. “Uncle Howell just knows how to do it because he could never keep in one place long enough for a mechanic to fix his.”

“So how come there’s always funny chalk circles on the floor of the shed when he has to fix his car?” Mari demanded.

“Because that’s just what he  _ does _ !” Neil cried, rolling his eyes.

“I dunno, mate. That game is wicked. It’s almost magic, all the choices you can make in it,” one of the other boys said.

“Shut up,” Neil shot back, tossing the ball harshly at the other boy. He looked at Sophie, crossing his arms. “ _ Are _ you looking for Uncle Howell, then?”

“Yes, I think I am.”

“Well, he’s not here. He came here last week and somehow had some homework I’d lost. I told him I gave my teacher the funny piece of writing he was looking for. Then he and Mum had a screaming row about his books.” All the children went quiet at that, clearly remembering exactly what happened. “S’pose you’ll want to know where my teacher lives, as well?” He asked, scowling.

“Yes, please.”

He glared at her for a moment, but then sighed. “Cardiff Road, over Mrs. Phillips’ tea shop. But he won’t be there,” Neil said. Sophie was a little disheartened when Mari didn’t disagree.

“Well. Thank you, young man. Play nice with your sister, won’t you?” Sophie turned around. She and Michael and Eirlys made their way toward the street, wondering how they were to find a specific road in such a strange place.

“Hang on!” Neil called after them. “You’re not planning to  _ walk _ to Cardiff Road, are you?”

“Well, it’s not as though I have any other way of getting there,” Sophie said practically. Neil looked dubiously at her cane and her skirts.

“Lemme get Dad,” he said.

After  some apparent negotiation inside while their party stood awkwardly on the garden path, a strange man was opening a wide door in a white building near the house, waving them close. There was a strange contraption inside the building and the man pulled open a door on it. 

“So you’re Ms. Angorian’s old aunt, eh? I’m Gareth Parry - Neil’s Da.” The man smiled blandly at her. Sophie furrowed her brow.

“No, I’m -” Michael stood on her foot, none too subtly, and she noticed that Neil was behind Gareth, his finger pressed harshly to his lips. She frowned, but nodded.

“Yes, that’s right. I wanted to check on her. And I walked by this way, because I heard she’d been talking with Neil’s uncle recently.” Neil made a face but didn’t make any violent gestures her way, so she assumed she hadn’t pushed too far. Gareth sighed deeply.

“God help her,” he said. “You can have the front, ma’am, and your grandson can sit in the back.”

Michael helped her get the strange door open and then got his own door open and slid into the large, metallic thing. Michael held Eirlys against his shoulder as they sat there. It began shaking and smelling, and when it began moving, she realized that it was some sort of horseless carriage. Sophie just tried not to panic as it moved.

When they came to a stop alongside a sidewalk some ways away, Gareth poked his head out of the car, frowning.

“Really, Howell?” he muttered as he looked at the horseless carriage parked in front of them. “Have a shouting match over some books and then leave your car out in the middle of the street for a week...”

Michael looked at Sophie and seemed to read her shakiness. He looked marginally better than she did, though not entirely well, but he patted her leg so she would stay, and then shimmied out of the carriage. He looked along the shopfronts and at the doors. He hesitated. Sophie watched Eirlys’s head turn up toward Michael, and they talked quietly to each other.

Michael finally stepped up to the door, but when he knocked on it and waited, there was no response. Eventually he shook his head and turned back to Gareth and Sophie.

“Could we trouble you terribly for a ride back to your house? We can walk from there, I think...” Michael said. Gareth acquiesced and before long they were back at the house.

“Are you sure this is as far as you need me to take you?” Gareth insisted as the horseless carriage rolled back into the shed.

“Yes,” Sophie said, trying to keep her shaking out of her voice. “Yes, that’s quite enough for the day. We walked here, we can walk back.”

“Alright...” Gareth said. He hesitated another moment, watching them.

“It’s fine, sir, really. We’re not far from here,” Michael promised, coming to Sophie’s side. Eirlys weaved around their feet in an entirely feline way, despite her canine shape.

“Alright...” Gareth looked at them again before he walked away, cutting back over the grass toward the porch and through a wavy glass door...the wavy glass door Sophie was fairly certain they had entered through. She began to panic when she realized, but as Gareth walked through the door, she could see an interior that didn’t look anything like the castle at all. Sophie frowned. When she looked over at Michael, she found him doing the same. Neither of them seemed to know what to say, though they both seemed to be having the same thoughts of dread - if that door didn’t lead into the castle, how were they supposed to get home? Eventually, Eirlys rolled her eyes. Instead of a dog, there was suddenly a rather large robin beside them. She darted over to the front door again, checking each of the corners. After a moment she lighted on the railing and waved them over with a wing.

“Alright. This is going to be a strain, but...” As Eirlys trailed off, the robin’s limbs began to stretch and the feathers sank into her body. Then there was what looked like a human child between Sophie and Michael.

“I think that portal magic may be a specialty of Howl’s - a natural expression of his magic. But if we put a little extra power into it, Michael, we can manage. I just have to contact Calcifer,” she murmured. She screwed her eyes shut and started to hum ethereally under her breath. After several moments, she reached out and took the knob firmly. This time, the door opened to blackness. They stepped through once more. Despite their lack of success in that strange otherworld, they all breathed a sigh of relief over being home.

Michael and Eirlys promptly collapsed on top of each other.

“They’re alright!” Calcifer called before Sophie could worry. “It’s just something they weren’t ready for. The shifts take a bit of power to maintain if they’re unfamiliar, plus - wherever you were, it felt quite far. I’m just relieved Eirlys got you all back.”

Sophie huffed and puffed her way up the stairs with Michael and Eirlys, settling them into her nook and then lowering herself, exhausted, into the armchair.

“Oh, Calcifer,” she whispered. “What will we do now?”

“Well,” Calcifer said, the colors that made his face twisting, as he frowned and scrunched his nose, until they practically swirled into each other. “There is... _ one _ thing we could try.”

“What is it?”

“Well...we could pay the Wastes a visit.”


	4. In Which the Castle Arrives Outside the Wastes

Sophie settled another log into the hearth. Calcifer flared in a pulse that she had learned, over the past few days, was a silent thanks. They’d been moving practically since Calcifer had made the suggestion to check the Wastes, though she and Michael had offered some token arguments first. But  Howl had been in the Witch’s clutches for a week and a half, and there was no telling what might have happened to him - and what could still happen. He was a slithering scoundrel, but he had been kind to her on May Day in the square, and he’d let her stay here. So, off they had gone. 

Sophie glanced over to the door. Michael and Eirlys had taken to sitting in the open doorway, turned green-down, watching the valley go by. A few times, Sophie would join them,  levering herself down onto the top step - she saw a lonely, dilapidated manor house and at least two farms go by. But  sitting still gave her too much time to think, and to worry about what was happening to Howl. She remembered stories her father had discussed with the customers, the various ways the Witch used to terrify the country. Around the time the thought  _ what if she takes inspiration from the stories and eats his heart _ crossed her mind, Sophie decided it was time to see if there was anything to clean. The living room could only offer a cursory cleaning, but there was a little more to do in Michael’s room, and even more to do in the bathroom, regardless of what had happened the last time she'd tried. Her thoughts were never quite nagging enough to compel her into Howl’s room, but she had hovered in the doorway and considered it a couple of times.

Sophie stared into Calcifer for a while, but he was rather static in his focus. She went to the top of the stairs to the door, looking down at Michael and Eirlys as they rested their feet on the exterior steps. She'd joined them yesterday and seen nothing but grass. She couldn’t do that again. With a sigh, Sophie turned to survey the living room. There was nothing left to do here, not even her cubbyhole. It was the first thing she had neatened. She began to climb the stairs, stopping at the bathroom. She’d been thorough there. She considered Michael’s room, but to disturb it any further would be rude. Any real mess had been taken care of already. So she continued until she was once more hovering at Howl’s doorway. Staring inside consumed several moments. Finally, she shook her head and stepped inside. If he didn’t want her nosing around, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten himself caught. She resolutely ignored the twinge of guilt that accompanied the thought.

As she moved to and fro, sweeping up dust bunnies and gathering certain discarded articles to toss into a wicker basket in a corner with her lips twisted into a grimace of disgust, it finally came to her attention that the image outside the window was static. That...wasn’t right. Sophie moved toward it, frowning a little. The sky outside was gray, which she didn’t remember it being when she had looked downstairs. She followed the gaze down, and found it was a tidy square of grass contained by a whitewashed fence. When a couple of children shot across it, laughing, she realized she was actually familiar with the lawn. Those were Howl’s relatives. She became entranced as she watched Neil and Mari play. It occurred to her, eventually, that if Howl’s sister lived in that house, he probably had once, too. How strange...

“Sophie.” She jumped and turned back to the door at the soft voice. The cat’s eyes were soft and concerned. Sophie’s face hardened as she realized what Eirlys coming to find her must mean. She followed Eirlys back down the stairs. She stopped quickly by her armchair to grab her walking stick. She did it rather more firmly than usual. As Eirlys reached Michael, she jumped into his arms. She changed to a snake to coil up his arms and drape across his shoulders.  Hopefully, she’d be able to stay close without tiring Michael out.

“Are you ready?” Michael shook his head at Sophie’s question. His lips pursed anxiously as he stroked Eirlys’ head. Sophie softened enough to give him a not-quite-right smile.

“Me neither.” She swallowed, trying to banish the squeezing sensation across her heart.

“You’re only at the edge of the wastes,” Calcifer murmured. “I’m sorry I can’t bring you farther. And I’m sorry I can’t come with you.” It was a guttering sort of sound - it made her nervous, but he was burning strongly. She realized after a moment that it was a tearful sound for him. Sophie hobbled over to the hearth and bent down by it.

“Calcifer...it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I should’ve told you. And he slithers out of things, but he might not be able to slither out of this,” Calcifer insisted. “But he might’ve been able to if I’d told you earlier.”

Sophie wished she could reach out and pat him like she would’ve patted one of her sisters’ heads or backs when they were upset, but even if Calcifer was  _ magic  _ fire, he was still fire, and it was likely to be a poor idea.

“We’ll get him back, Calcifer.” Sophie straightened, silently cursing her creaky old bones. Even if she hurt less than she had after first getting changed, it was still a jarring difference. She firmed up her grip on her stick and then turned to Michael.  She paused a moment to put a hand on an unoccupied stretch of his shoulder and squeezed. She was beginning to feel rather motherly towards him, even if she was, in truth, not all that much older. Then, she made her way out the door, with Michael just behind. It was beautiful, at first - a sort of oasis on the edge of the waste, mostly bushes but with patches of flowers here and there. Sophie told herself sternly to ignore it and trudged on toward the sands beyond. It quickly grew warmer. By the time they could no longer see the little garden, it was almost unbearable.

Eirlys murmured something. The heat didn’t go away entirely after the spell, but it did settle into something bearable, even when the hot wind surged by.

“We don’t know how far she is,” Michael murmured, filled with dread. Eirlys wavered at his shoulder before she hissed, evidently in displeasure.

“Too far to walk. Do you have anything faster? What about what you had the day we met?”

“The seven-league boots?” Michael asked. Sophie cursed quietly, looking mournfully back toward the house. So much lost time. But then Michael was screwing his eyes shut and grimacing. Very carefully, he began to pronounce a strange set of words. The boots appeared in his hands. He cried out triumphantly.

“What do you know? Howl’s laziness can actually teach you something,” he said cheerfully to Sophie. His smile looked a little forced, but the comment made things feel more normal, and Sophie smiled in return, even if it was a little strained.

“I’m glad you remembered it, Michael. Just like at the marshes?”

“Don’t fall this time,” Michael advised grimly. “Eirlys, which way?”

Eirlys’s head weaved through the air until she fixed in a direction. “There. She’s bright - old, powerful. Watch yourselves, please.”

Michael put down the shoes. Sophie slipped a foot into one and curled her arm around Michael’s back as he slipped a foot into the other.

“On three?” Michael nodded. They began chanting, stepping together when they reached ‘three’. The first time, they saw only sand around them in all directions. The second time, it was grayer and flatter, but she thought she saw something in the distance that wasn’t quite right to be part of the landscape. Together, they took another step. Suddenly, it was upon them - a knot of twisting towers, with one winding one standing particularly ostentatiously. At once, they both stopped counting to stare. Dread filled Sophie. Were they truly about to face the Witch of the Wastes?

Eirlys flicked her forked tongue against Michael’s ear, and then against Sophie’s.

“Focus,” she said - the sibilant drew on a little long. “He’s here. They’re here. You need your wits about you.”

Carefully, they stepped out of the shoes. Michael bit his lip and stared at the shoes for a while, but neither of them could carry them, and he didn’t end up recalling a vanishing spell. So they turned and made their way for the Witch’s castle.  She did not expect the orange blobs to appear - the Witch’s pageboys, she recalled. Suddenly, her heart was beating even faster than the heat and the hill had it going. She’d been imagining that they’d have the element of surprise. She and Michael stood, frozen. 

Eirlys slithered down from Michael’s shoulders, as though she weren’t even concerned. A distant part of Sophie mused that Eirlys was probably quite old, and there were few things scarier than a freefall from the sky, so there was little reason to be scared of all this. Eirlys remained a snake as she moved across the hot sand. She seemed to radiate power as she slithered up to the pageboys. She sat up for a moment, swaying before the first of the pageboys. Then she moved forward too quickly to see, her mouth open. The constructions began to turn brown, starting from Eirlys's bites to their ankles, and then they crumbled away in unsettling globs. Michael hurried forward, and Sophie trudged after. Eirlys was making quiet gagging noises as Michael picked her up.

“I’ll be okay. That was just  _ disgusting _ ,” Eirlys confided.

Michael slipped Eirlys back onto his shoulders, and he and Sophie stared at the doorway. Neither of them moved. Sophie had nearly geared herself up to finally step inside when she felt something. She glanced over. Michael had taken her hand and was holding it tight. His lips were thin, his face arranged so he was frowning a little. He looked worried, but it didn’t match the strength with which he was holding her hand. Sophie found herself squeezing back. As one, they stepped into the dark doorway. She just hoped they weren’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that a) this took so long b) the chapter count has increased
> 
> I was going to try and fit it all into one chapter and then a POV switch decided it was going to happen so uh.....hopefully chapter 5 will be the last? It may not be soon but I have a rough idea how it will play out.
> 
> (And yes. Howl does absolutely just leave his dirty clothes on the floor until laundry day. Sure, his clean stuff is all meticulously and vainly organized. But the dirty stuff? E V E R Y W H E R E)


End file.
